Any Guide in a Storm
by EJ3
Summary: Newkirk and LeBeau run into trouble on a routine trip home from the Hofbrau.


Any Guide in a Storm

E.J. McFall

The snow storm came out of nowhere, turning once recognizable terrain into strange territory. The wind whipped around them, creating a zero-visibility blizzard.

"Blimey! We should have stayed at the Hofbrau."

"The weather was fine back there." LeBeau shielded his eyes with his hands. "I think we're heading the wrong way."

"We've already changed direction twice." Newkirk turned in a tight circle, desperately searching for a landmark. "None of this looks familiar, but we shouldn't be that far from Stalag 13."

"Or we've been walking away from it for the last hour."

"Right." Newkirk risked using his flashlight, but –light or dark – the blinding snow made getting a fix on their position nearly impossible. "If we're going away from camp, we must be heading towards DuBois' farm. Maybe we should head there instead."

"Oui. It's a good idea." LeBeau brushed the snow from his shoulders. "Do you think you can find DuBois?"

"I was hoping you'd be able to."

LeBeau stood on his tiptoes and flashed his light in a circle. The added height apparently gave him no advantage. "I think we're lost, mon ami. Maybe we should find someplace to hole up until the snow stops or the sun comes up. Whichever is first."

"We'll probably miss roll call and get a lecture from the Colonel."

"And spend time in the cooler."

Newkirk considered their options. "All of that beats walking in circles in the dark in the snow."

"Agreed. All we need now is some kind of shelter. You look that way and I'll look back there." LeBeau spotted a thicket of trees in the distance and headed for them. He'd only taken a few steps when the ground beneath him suddenly disappeared. "Merde!"

"What now?" Newkirk turned just in time to see LeBeau fall through a patch of ice on a snow-covered stream. "Cor blimey! Louie!"

"Newkirk!" LeBeau struggled towards solid ground. "Au secours!

"Grab my hand!" Newkirk reached for his friend. "Come on, Louie. It's a stream. It can't be that deep. Walk, don't swim."

"Ah, oui." LeBeau scrambled toward the edge and caught Newkirk's hand. "Merci!"

Newkirk dragged LeBeau out of the water and glanced about for a dry spot for him to sit. Finding none, he brushed the snow from a tree stump and steered him towards it. "You ok?"

"I'm freezing." LeBeau's teeth chattered.

Newkirk nodded, his mind drawn back to the survival training he'd had back in London. He remembered being told that if they were forced to ditch their plane in the North Sea in the winter, they had only a matter of minutes before they were in danger of dying from hypothermia. True, a stream in Germany was no match for the North Sea, but the treatment was still the same—get dry and warm immediately. Only, they had no blankets, no dry wood, no shelter, no compass, and no idea where they were.

Newkirk swore silently. It had all been so preventable. Their mission had been a cakewalk. Take some film to the Hofbrau then come right back to camp. Only, they hadn't left right away. They'd stayed for dinner, a few drinks, and a couple of lovelies. If they had left on time, they would have been back in their bunks by the time the storm started. As it was, they were less than a mile from town when the blizzard whipped up out of nowhere. They should have gone back and had a few more drinks, but they figured they could make it back to camp with their eyes closed. It turned out they weren't quite as good at navigating as they thought they were.

"We should go." LeBeau shivered as he pulled himself to his feet.

"Wait a minute." Newkirk considered his dripping wet friend. He'd be able to move faster –and get help faster - if he left LeBeau here. On the other hand, left by himself Louie might freeze, wander off in a daze or get captured. There was really only one option…. "Look, we've got four directions. One leads to camp, one to DuBois, one to town and one goes deep into the woods. I say we just pick a direction and pray it's not the one that goes off into the middle of nowhere."

"One in four –the odds aren't too bad." LeBeau wrapped his arms around himself, tried to control his shivering. "You pick."

"Ok." Newkirk closed his eyes, like he did before every 'loser-take-nothing' bet he made. He cleared his mind, put his trust in Fate, and pointed to the left. "That way."

"Ah, oui. Let's go."

"Louie, if you want to stay here and wait for me…."

"Non!" Louie shook his head adamantly. "I don't want…We need to stay together."

"So we will, mate." Newkirk met LeBeau's eyes. "So we will."

"Merci, mon ami."

Newkirk took a deep breath and headed off to the left. "So, how mad do you think Colonel Hogan will be when we finally get back?"

LeBeau made a guttural noise.

"That's kind of what I thought." Newkirk sighed dramatically. "Maybe we should just keep right on walking."

LeBeau's only response was the chattering of his teeth.

Newkirk gave his friend a sideways glance, watching for signs of hypothermia. Louie was shivering, but if they kept moving –and if they found shelter soon – they should be ok. "Think Hogan will send out a rescue party?"

"I don't know..." LeBeau was shaking so hard his words were slurred. "He probably just thinks we're goofing off at the Hofbrau."

"Or that we had enough sense to stay there when the storm broke." Newkirk shrugged. "Something tells me Carter will be making all the trips to town for a while."

"He's welcome to them."

Newkirk tried to think of some snappy patter to distract his friend, but words failed him. Instead, he focused on the terrain, watching for anything that looked even remotely familiar. They trudged on in silence, Newkirk occasionally glancing back to make sure his friend was still on his feet. LeBeau was still holding his own, but he was definitely slowing down. Newkirk cursed himself again for wasting time drinking at the Hofbrau when they should have been making tracks back to camp. If anything happened to his friend because of his lack of judgment….

"I didn't mean to fall through the ice." LeBeau's words were low and labored.

"What?"

"The ice. I didn't mean to fall through it."

"Well of course you didn't. Who said you did?"

"I just wanted you to know."

"Louie…" Newkirk barely caught LeBeau from tripping over a tree limp. "Hey, that's Carter's trick, not yours."

"What?"

"Falling over your own feet…" Newkirk shook his head. He never had to explain his jokes to Louie. Despite their completely different backgrounds, the two just seemed to be….well, he'd never had to explain one of his jokes to the Frenchman before, that was all.

Time passed in heavy silence, LeBeau's stumbling the only sound around them. Newkirk gave up counting after the fourth time he had to keep his friend from falling.

"Arreter!"

"What?"

LeBeau dropped onto the ground, pulled his knees up and laid his head down on them. "Ca suffit."

"What's that mean? You're tired?" Newkirk searched his limited French vocabulary. "You're done? Quitting?"

"Oui."

"No, you're not. We have to be almost there. Wherever there is."

"Non." LeBeau gestured for Newkirk to walk on.

"That's enough of that." Newkirk leaned against a tree. "Take a few minutes, then we head off again."

LeBeau shook his head.

"Louie…" Newkirk knelt down by his friend and lifted his chin. "I told you we were sticking together and that's exactly what we're going to do. Got it?"

LeBeau's response was in mumbled French.

"Aw, bloody hell." Newkirk cursed himself for never learning more than a few dozen French words in all his time with Louie. And most of those had to do with wine, women and song. "Ok, that's enough loafing. Time to get back on your feet."

"Non."

"Oui." Newkirk pulled LeBeau to his feet. "You can walk or I can carry you, but we're not staying here."

LeBeau started to slide back to the ground. Newkirk swore, yanked him upright, and hoisted him over his shoulder. He expected to feel a slap of cold water as he settled his friend in a fireman's carry. Instead, he felt the solid ice that had formed on his clothes. "Blimey, you're turning into an icicle."

LeBeau made no response. Newkirk comforted himself with the thought that at least –if he had to carry one of his comrades –LeBeau was the lightest of the group.

"Hang on, mon ami. It can't be too far now."

Louie's response was to mumble something repeatedly in French.

Newkirk frowned. He didn't know most of the words, but he recognized Mother and Mary and knew it was a prayer. He'd heard it before, generally when the gestapo had them on their knees and they were waiting for Hogan to make one of his miraculous last-minute rescues. "I'm going to get us out of here, Louie. I promise you. I…"

Newkirk froze as he saw a figure moving in the woods ahead of them. He quickly shut off his flashlight and stepped into the cover of a stand of trees. He carefully lowered LeBeau to the ground and whispered, "I'll be right back, Louie. Got to check something out. Keep quiet till I get back."

Newkirk quietly followed the retreating form, hoping that he wasn't chasing down a gestapo agent. He breathed a sigh of relief as he drew close enough to determine that the man was wearing a Free French uniform. "Wait!" Newkirk circled in front of the man, blocking his trail. "Free French? Are you one of DuBois' men?"

The man simply stared at him.

"Mon ami…La France Libre.….au secours…" Newkirk struggled to come up with enough French to get his point across. He finally gave up and gestured for the man to follow him. He was relieved when the stranger stared for a moment, then fell into step behind him.

"My friend's over here. He fell through the ice." Newkirk did his best to communicate through hand gestures and broken French. The man simply followed wordlessly. "Over there, under the tree. The guy's French. One of your countrymen." Newkirk had hoped to let LeBeau take over the communicating, but he had fallen asleep or passed out by the time they returned. Either way, Newkirk couldn't rouse him enough to be of any help. Silent and dressed in civilian clothes, LeBeau could have easily been taken for one of the locals. "You know DuBois? You have to be one of his men. Please, take us to DuBois. Louie's freezing to death."

The man finally nodded and gestured for Newkirk to follow. He quickly settled LeBeau over his shoulder and fell into step behind what he hoped was their rescuer. The snow was still blinding, but the Frenchman seemed to know the twisting path through the woods. It was only a matter of a few minutes before Newkirk spotted a small farmhouse hidden in a valley. "I think we made it, Louie."

He received no reply from either Frenchman.

Their guide headed around the building just as the front door opened and three armed men and a German shepherd dog stepped outside.

"DuBois! It's me, Newkirk."

"Pierre?" DuBois stepped forward cautiously, the other two men training their guns on Newkirk all the while. "Who are you carrying? Louie?"

"We got lost, he fell through the ice, and I need a fire and a blanket for him."

"Ah, oui." DuBois translated for the others. "Come inside."

"Thank God your man was out there tonight or we'd still be roaming around."

"My man?" DuBois shook his head. "My people are all here. Only a fool would go out in this weather."

"But I saw a man in a Free French uniform…." Newkirk glanced around the building. "He was here a moment a go."

DuBois gestured for his men to search the area. "If there's someone out there, my men will find him. You should come in and get LeBeau by the fire."

"Right." Newkirk turned his attention to his shivering friend. He followed DuBois to a bedroom with an inviting fireplace. Tiger and Marie, two of DuBois' best agents, were quickly at Newkirk's side. They helped him get Louie out of his wet clothes and between the warm blankets.

"Here, Pierre." DuBois offered Newkirk some dry clothes. "Come change and sit by the fire. The girls will take care of Louie."

Newkirk considered his friend, who was being tucked into bed by two beautiful French women. His eyes were closed and he was still shivering, but he was finally warm and safe. Well, as safe as a Free French saboteur hiding out deep in enemy territory could be. "You'll stay with him?"

"Oui." Tiger was gently rubbing circulation back into LeBeau's hands. "You've taken care of him. Now take care of yourself."

Marie nodded as she dried Louie's hair. "Thank you for bringing him to us, Pierre. We will not let anything happen to him while he rests."

"Thanks." Now that LeBeau was being care for, Newkirk suddenly realized that he was cold and exhausted himself. He stepped into the other room and quickly stripped off his wet clothes and put on the dry ones. He didn't see DuBois, but one of his men gestured for him to sit by the fire while another brought him some sort of hot toddy. He finally allowed himself to relax a bit and evaluate the situation. As far as he could see, the only people around were Marie, Tiger, DuBois, and two other Frenchmen that he'd seen in the past but had never spoken to. He decided to take care of that. He pointed to himself. "Newkirk."

"D'Artagnon." One of the men pointed at himself. Newkirk was certain he'd only given him his code name, but it was a start.

"Nemo." Another code name, but at least Newkirk had something to call the man.

"Do either of you speak English?"

Both men shook their heads.

"Do you speak German? Allemand?"

Both men nodded.

Newkirk switched to German. "Did you find anyone in the woods?"

"No one." Nemo warmed his hands by the fire. "And the only tracks we found were yours."

"That can't be." Newkirk searched the man's face for any hint that he was lying, but saw none. "I'm looking for the man who led us here. He was about my height and age, had dark hair, wore a Free French uniform…"

"None of us wear uniforms." D'Artagnon tossed another log onto the fire. "It would be suicidal."

"The only French uniforms in this area would be at your camp." Nemo added.

Newkirk considered that. He didn't know every Frenchman back at Stalag 13, but most of them probably knew him as Louie's British friend. If one of the prisoners had escaped, he surely would have recognized LeBeau as the French prisoners' liaison with Hogan and would have spoken to them. And how would any anonymous prisoner from Stalag 13 know how to find DuBois underground cell in the dark, much less in a blizzard? None of it made any sense. "So there's just the five of you in your group?"

"Now." Nemo sighed. "We had a sixth member, but he was shot last month. We buried him out in the woods."

"Renard was our radio man. He joined us after he was wounded fighting with the Free French in Algiers." D'Artagnon paused. "At least he died quickly and wasn't tortured by the filthy gestapo."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Newkirk knew there was nothing more he could say that would make up for losing a team member, so he tried to change the subject. "Who handles your radio now?"

"I do, but I'll never be able to replace Renard." DuBois entered from the kitchen. "He held our unit together. I feel like I've lost my good right arm. "

"Like our Kinch, I suppose. I wouldn't want to think what the Colonel would do without him." Newkirk shook off the depressing thought. "Speaking of Papa Bear, I should let him know where we are."

"I just talked to him." DuBois settled down by the fire. "He asked us to keep you two until the blizzard clears and he can send one of Klink's trucks to get you. I told him you are our welcome guests for as long as you need."

"Thanks." Newkirk yawned. "I should check on Louie while I'm still awake."

DuBois shook his head while the other men chuckled. "The girls are doing their best to keep him warm. There is no need for you to worry about him."

Newkirk glanced from grinning man to grinning man, decided that some questions were better left unasked. "Lucky Louie."

"He is our countryman so of course Marie and Tiger will do what they must to care for him." DuBois grew serious. "And you are his friend, so if there's anything you need from us, you need only ask."

"I think I'm fine, thanks." Newkirk glanced at the pile of blankets by the fire. "If you can spare a bed roll, I could use some sleep."

DuBois nodded, issued orders to his men.

"But first I think I'd like to check outdoors again."

"For the Frenchman who brought you here?" DuBois shook his head. "There are precious few of us in this part of the world. I suspect you were hallucinating, Pierre. You were cold and tired and worried about Louie…"

"You're probably right. Still…" Newkirk draped a blanket over his head and shoulder s and ducked outside. Nemo fell into step beside him with a flashlight and the guard dog. The snow still made visibility difficult, but Newkirk managed to walk the perimeter before giving up.

"It was a mirage, like you have out in the desert." Nemo ignored Newkirk's scowl. "A blizzard is no different than a sand storm. You see things, especially when you're tired and hungry."

"I suppose." Newkirk didn't believe it, but it would do no good to get in an argument when he couldn't leave until Louie was back on his feet. Instead, he headed back inside to get warm. His host had set up his makeshift bed right in front of the fire, for which Newkirk was most grateful. He settled down between DuBois and Nemo before he noticed that D'Artagnon was positioned by the window with the guard dog. Much as he wanted to sleep, it was considered rude in their profession not to offer to help with the watch. "I can take my turn on guard duty, if someone will wake me."

DuBois shook his head. "The three of us switch off and the dog does his job. We also have a few surprises in the woods."

"Surprises?"

DuBois made an exploding gesture with his hands.

"Blimey! Are you telling me that I was walking around in the dark in a woods full of booby-traps?"

"That is why we usually send someone out to meet visitors." DuBois shrugged. "You are a very lucky man, Pierre."

"But just now…when I was walking outside…."

"Nemo was watching you. He would have told you if you were going to blow yourself up."

"Well, that's good to hear." Newkirk burrowed under the blankets and tried to go to sleep, but all he could think of was their mysterious guide who had apparently known DuBois' secrets –at least well enough to lead them through the woods to safety. Newkirk was a sensible man and not prone to believing in things that went bump in the night, but still….

No. Newkirk shook his head and ordered away his crazy thoughts. He and Louie had been lucky, that's all. Tonight they would both sleep and tomorrow they'd wake up back to normal. Papa Bear would come for them and after enduring a lecture from Hogan and a stint in the cooler, they'd go back to their normal lives.

Except that before they left, Newkirk intended to ask one of the Frenchmen to show him where their friend Renard was buried. Because he had a strange feeling that he owed the man a debt of thanks. And Newkirk always liked to repay his debts.


End file.
